Crying
I’m sitting here crying with my broken heart. Who will love me in this world if you don’t. Who will take care of me when I’m old. And who will I take care of. The pain hurts so much. This knife in my aeorta. I can’t shake this one off. I can’t brush it away. It hurts too bad, the wound is too deep. It’s an excruciating feeling and I fear it will never go away. Your distance, your love placed somewhere else. Where am I to go, who can I see, what can I do to ease this pain, to stop my tears. There is nowhere, no one, nothing I can do. But endure. And suffer. And wish I could cut my heart out because what good is it all torn and tattered anyway. I wish the end were here so I didn’t have to live in this world without you. Without your love. Without your caring or your touch. My love, my friend, my life.